Rachel Lee - Conard County Marine

After Glenda left for work, Kylie sat in the living room and found herself wishing Coop was there, stranger though he was. She hadn’t been alone for more than a minute or two since her attack. Either in the hospital, or later when Glenda had brought her back to her apartment to pack, the only solitary time she had experienced had been in the bathroom or when her sister went out to grab food.

She wasn’t enjoying it. As the evening shadows lengthened and day faded into night, her skin began to crawl. She knew she was safe here, in her own home, miles away from the attacker who had nearly killed her, but some part of her seemed unable to believe it yet.

Time, she reminded herself. Time would help her get past the unreasoning fear. There was no reason whatsoever to believe that her attacker would even look for her again. None. The cops had told her that. It wasn’t as if she could identify the man who did this, and they’d made sure word had gotten out through the press that she had amnesia. To protect her. She should feel grateful for that, but instead she felt as if her failings had been announced to the world. See Kylie Brewer, the woman with amnesia. God.

The knock on the front door shocked her, and a spear of terror ripped through her. For long moments she couldn’t even move as her heart raced and her mouth turned dry.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said aloud in a muffled voice, her tongue practically sticking to the roof of her dried mouth. “You’re home. No one outside this town knows where you are. It’s just a neighbor.”

The knock came again. She had to answer it. Someone might be looking for Glenda. It could be important. Or maybe it was Coop, locked out. She had no idea whether Glenda had given him a key.

On stiff legs that didn’t want to move easily, she rose and walked toward the front door. Her feet felt leaden. Shaking, she finally turned the latch on the dead bolt and opened the door.

A familiar, smiling face greeted her. Todd Jamison, a man she had known most of her life, one she had dated in high school. Surprise replaced shock and she gaped at him. “Todd?”

His smile was warm. He was still a handsome man, with light brown hair and dark brown eyes. He wore a white dress shirt with his jeans. “Hey, Kylie. I heard you were back and I wanted to see with my own eyes that you’re okay. Is that all right?”

Knowing him eased her fears. Not that she felt entirely comfortable—in fact, she felt edgy—but she couldn’t blame him for that. Nor could she slam the door in his face when he’d been kind enough to come by and check on her.

“I’m tired,” she admitted honestly, “but a few minutes is okay.”

So she let him inside, reminding herself of all the years Todd had been part of her life, whether as a classmate or briefly as someone she had dated. Somehow, however, when she closed the door behind him, the ants began to crawl along her nerves again. God, she had to stop feeling as if threats hovered in every moment of the day. She’d never be able to do anything with her life if she became a hermit terrified of other human beings.

She didn’t offer him coffee or tea because she hoped he wouldn’t stay long, and she tried to remind herself that she’d just been wishing she weren’t alone. Now she wasn’t alone.

“I read the papers,” he said as he perched on the edge of the couch. “Maybe it’s dumb to mention it, but I just want you to know how happy I am that you’re okay. Except...you can’t remember? That’s a good thing, right?”

She’d already heard that more times than she wanted to count. Not being able to remember the attack was a blessing. Losing three years of her life fell into an entirely different category. She cleared her throat, not wanting to delve into this. “I’m glad I don’t remember the attack.” Leave it alone, Todd. Please leave it alone.

“I’m sure you are.” He frowned faintly. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what people are supposed to say. Never did this before.”

“Me, either.”

Then his smile returned, the smile that had once, all too briefly, attracted her. “I guess we’re all going to be ham-handed for a while. So are you glad to be home? Or is life around here too boring now?”

“How would I know?”

Kylie looked down, realizing she had just rudely ended the conversation. Worse, she didn’t even feel like apologizing for it. What was wrong with her?

But before she could figure out how to ease her blunt question, she heard the side door in the kitchen open. Fear slammed her yet again.

* * *

Feeling like an extra wheel, Coop had left the ladies to eat their dinner, saying he needed a stroll before dining himself. Walking the streets of Conard City was slowly becoming a pleasure for him. No need to wonder what was around every corner or behind every building. Just nice people, when he ran into them, who smiled and gave him a friendly nod. A lot of them seemed to know he was Connie’s cousin, which he suspected eased his way. At least he didn’t get regarded with suspicion.

He toyed with the idea of moving to the motel, to give Kylie space, then cast it aside. Glenda had generously offered him a place to stay while he visited, and he didn’t want to offend her in some way.

As for his cousin and her brood...every time he thought of those three high-energy kids—two of their own and a daughter who was older, from Connie’s previous marriage—he had to grin. They were a handful of boundless energy, especially the two youngest. Connie and Ethan both worked, and by the time the evening was drawing to a close, whichever of them was around for the bedtime chores had started to look exhausted.

He tried to help, but Ethan was right: his presence seemed to excite the youngsters more. He hoped that would pass as they got used to having him around or Connie was apt to beg him never to visit again.

He suddenly realized that light had almost faded from the day and he switched course to head back to the house. Glenda would be at work, and Kylie would be alone. While he wasn’t sure Kylie really wanted him around, Glenda had mentioned that she’d feel better if Kylie weren’t left in solitude, at least for a while.

Coop understood. Regardless of her inability to remember, Kylie had lost her basic sense of safety. The unimaginable had happened to her. Being alone, even in a familiar house, might be difficult for a while.

So he’d play it by ear. If she wanted him to disappear, he’d go up to his room. She’d still know someone was in the house if something frightened her.

Glenda’s car was gone when he got back to the house, but a different one was parked out front. An old friend? Nevertheless, he sped up his pace, just in case Kylie was nervous.

When he got to the house, he let himself in the side door and heard voices coming from the living room. A man’s voice. Kylie’s rarer and quieter. He made no secret of his approach. A big man, he could be stealthy or noisy as the situation demanded. Right now he chose noisy.

Two lamps had been turned on in the living room. Kylie sat nearly huddled in an armchair, facing a handsome man of about her age, maybe late twenties, who sat on the couch with legs splayed and his elbows resting on his knees. Leaning toward her. In an instant Coop gathered that Kylie was subtly leaning away as best she could. Body language spoke volumes.

“Am I interrupting?” Coop asked.

“No...no...” Kylie said tautly. “Come in.”

The man on the couch stood immediately, smiling broadly. “Todd Jamison. Kylie and I grew up together. Just thought I’d see how she was doing.”

Todd offered his hand and Coop returned the smile as he shook it. “Evan Cooper, just call me Coop.” But even as he made the pleasant greeting, he was also ticking off a catalog. The guy was a little over average height, fit and looking like he could have stepped off the cover of GQ, rancher’s edition. Jeans, a white shirt, all neatly pressed, and boots that had been highly polished. Brown hair artfully tousled. A fashion plate.